As I came wandering down Glen Spean,
Where the braes are green and grassy,
With my light step I overtook
A weary-footed lassie.
She had one bundle on her back,
Another in her hand,
And she walked as one who was full loath
To travel from the land.
Quoth I, “My bonnie lass!”—for she
Had hair of flowing gold,...
PRAISE ye the Lord!
Not in the temple of shapeliest mould,
Polished with marble and gleaming with gold,
Piled upon pillars of slenderest grace,
But here in the blue sky’s luminous face,
Praise ye the Lord!
Praise ye the Lord!
Not where the organ’s melodious wave
Dies ’neath the rafters that narrow the...
